I Always Trusted You
by Phoebe Blomfield
Summary: "You were wrong you know". Oh, God these words haunted me after The Reichenbach Fall aired on TV.
1. The One That Trusted

"You're wrong you know."

The voice broke the silence, startled me, almost causing me to drop my things and cry out. His voice. After my outburst earlier, I was almost reluctant to turn and face him. _No. Come on Molly. _I turned round, and squinted into the darkness.

"You do count." He wasn't facing me. He was facing away, and he was scared. He was tensed in a way I had never seen him before.

"You've always counted, and I've always trusted you." My heart skipped a little at these words. Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective, who didn't have friends. Sherlock Holmes, the abnormally smart, high-cheekboned man who rarely showed emotions was opening himself up to me, and his voice was beginning to crack. Me. _I don't count. _There was a silence between us, and I was reluctant to say anything, reluctant to break the tension.

"But you were right." He turned his head to face me. "I'm not okay." I could have said the words with him; he may have thought he was hiding it, and John may not have seen it, but I did. I saw it. He wasn't okay. His once sure eyes were shadowed with uncertainty, his once certain stance was nearly hunched with weary defeat. I wanted nothing more than to comfort him.

"Tell me what's wrong." My voice was barely audible, barely free from breaking.

His eyes flicked up to meet mine. Those brilliant, scared eyes. "Molly. I think I'm going to die." Where it had just felt like my heart had skipped a beat, now it felt like it had stopped.

"What do you need?"

"If I wasn't eveything you think I am, everything _I_ think I am... Would you still want to help me?"

_How could he doubt me? _"What do you need?" I repeated. From the first moment I saw this man, I knew I could do othing but help him. In whatever way he needed. He now turned his whole body to face me, and I was once again shocked by how tired he looked. I saw hesitation flicker across his face, and he took a step towards me. And another. My breath cought in my throat. When he came in touching distance, my breath stopped.

"You."

He was standing right in front of me, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off of his body. His eyes never once left mine, and it felt like they were digging down into my soul. There was a sadness in them, a _fear _in them that broke my heart. I let out the breath I'd been holding, and looked away, turned my head down to the floor. Without lifting my head, I watched him slowly raise his arm. He was hesitant, and I could tell that this was as new to him as could be. Once again my breath hitched, as his long fingers cupped my chin and lifted my head up so I had no choice but to look at him again. _He was so close. _

"You." He repeated, the words only a whisper in the darkness. His whole body was tense, so tense it made my muscles ache just to think about , my body was the complete oposite; if he kept staring at me like that any longer I was sure my legs would turn to jelly beneith me. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and was sure he could hear it too. His eyes flickered shut a little as his breath hitched, and for a second, one split second, I saw how afraid he really was. And it killed me.

Bracing myself for the rejection I knew was inevitable, I closed the small gap between us. I felt him freeze, and I did too as my lips pressed ever so slightly against his. His warm, soft lips. I pulled back, blicking rapidly trying to clear me head. _Idiot. _

"I'm... Sorry, I shou...I don't know wh..." I was stuttering, and I knew it. I should shut up, I should walk away. Sherlock's hand was no longer cupping my chin, but had fallen, and was frozen in mid-air, almost as if he wasn't sure whether to reach out to me or not. No, this was Sherlock, of course he wouldn't reach out to me. He was still staring at me, though, a mix of shock and something else on his face. Longing? Lust? _No, don't be silly, Molly. He doesn't go in for that sort of thing. _Either way, I had never seen him look like this. I turned away, intending to head home, open a bottle of wine and try and forget all of this. I reached for the door, when something stopped me.

He had reached out and caught hold of the hem of my coat. He was still looking. I swayed back a little towards him, unsure of what it is I wanted.

"Sherlock, I don..."

Before I could finish that sentence - _how was it going to end, Molly? _- he had my cuaght between him and the doorframe. A small part of my brain wondered how he could have moved so quickly, but it was quickly hushed by the quick relaization of his proximity to me. He was warm, and he smelled like a mix of nicotine and coffee. He smelled like Sherlock. He shuffled his feet a little, and I felt his chest pressed against mine. Even under his coat and suit I could tell he was lean and slightly toned. I looked up at his face. _Big mistake, Molly. _I was immediately captured by his eyes, those perfect pools of blue and gold and **emotions**. So many emotions. One hand was leaning of the door frame, at level with my throat. He raised his other, and once again I felt the coolness of his fingers brushing against my cheek. I closed my eyes, and felt my head tilt slightly toward his hand at his touch. His breath was coming in slow, torturous waves and hitting my face. I could feel it on my lips. His eyes closed slightly as his middle finger skimmed my lower lip ever so slightly. I wanted him to lean in, I wanted to feel him press his lips to mine.


	2. The One That Counted

A/N: I know it's not been long, and I know that this seems like a really insignificant thing to you guys (prbably), but when I checked this morning, there were two reviews (ALREADY!), and they are both so positive; it made me really happy to read them :D

So massive thanks to: Renaissancebooklover108 and Kathmak for making my day!

I felt my cheeks flush as I let out a long, shaky breath. I opened my eyes, and couldn't look away. _Those eyes..._ It was impossible to want to look anywhere else. Once again, a flash of fear swept across his face, and, although it was gone as soon as it had appeared, I didn't miss it. He was as scared as I was right now, whether he knew it himself or not. His hand was still pressed ever so gently against my cheek, and I could feel a slight tremble in his fingers as he leaned in. It was a slow, tortuous movement, almost like he was teasing me. I never registered the moment his breath went from steady and calm to deep, almost like he was trying to calm himself. He tilted his head a little, and I saw his hooded eyes close entirely. I shut mine, knowing what was about to happen and not knowing whether to believe it or not.

He brushed his lips against mine, a mere shadow of a kiss. His breath came out shaky against my cheek; it sent shivers down my spine. My hands were still hanging aimlessly at my sides, and it wasn't until he gently pressed his lips to mine once again that I knew what I wanted. Without warning, I reached up and grasped the lapels of his jacket, and pulled him deeper into the kiss. He gasped against my mouth, and I felt a little surge of pride. _I have shocked Sherlock Holmes. Well done, Molly Hooper. _I was dragged back to the present suddenly when I felt him run his tounge hesitantly along my bottom lip. The action sent flames running all through my body. I shivered, and it wasn't because I was cold.

My hands snaked up and I burried my fingers in his think black curls, as I willingly opened my mouth further to grant him access. _You're kissing Sherlock Holmes! _Yes, I am. I felt his tongue snake into my mouth, and it seemed that with every gentle tug on his hair, he grew more confident. Eyes still closed, I felt him bring his arms around my waist and pull my tighter to him, almost like he was afraid to let go. _I don't count. __**You do count. You've always counted, and I've always trusted you. **_

Our breathing slowly became more ragged, heavier. He pulled away first, and it felt wrong. Despite his chest pressed against mine, despite his hands clutching me to him, it felt colder. Lonelier. I opened my eyes to see him doing the same. There was no more fear in his eyes, no more strain in the way he looked at me. He looked... calm. Peaceful. Open.

"Molly Hooper; the one that counted." His deep - _his sexy_ - voice vibrated through me, and the corner of his mouth twitched up in a heartbreakingly beautiful half-smile. I wanted to speak, but I knew that if I did it would just come out as jumbled words, no coherent sentences at all. I felt the blush creep through my cheeks, and looked down, pleasently humbled at his words. His hand snapped up and grabbed my ponytail and tugged, softly pulling my face up to look at him again. The blue and gold of his eyes had intensified, and his pupils had dialated. _Indicates sexual attraction. _It was like looking into eternity. I wanted to touch him, run my hands along those sharp cheekbones, those lips, his chest. I wanted to feel him.

"What do you need?" My voice was nothing more than a husky whisper. He pulled his hand down my ponytail, tiltling my head back further. I gasped as I felt his lips press a soft kiss against my neck. I was lost in sensations as his hand trailed down my spine, back up across the side of my ribs and chest and along my arm until his hand was wrapped around one of mine. He pulled our hands out of his hair and to our sides. His long fingers enveloped mine as our hands entwined. Without another word, he stepped away from me, cauing an instant chill as our bodies separated. Not letting go of my hand, he smiled, winked, and walked out of the lab, trailing me behind.

_**You. **_


End file.
